Fifty Shades of Dead
by PygmyDust
Summary: Christian Grey is a Vampire. Told in the style of Interview with the Vampire, crossover. Ana is called Claudia in this re-imagining. Christian is telling his story to an anonymous narrator who occasionally offers an opinion. At the beginning of this story Christian tells of his early human life, in Colonial America. Elena is his maker. I DO NOT OWN THE CHARACTERS.
1. Chapter 1

The room is simple. A table, two straight-backed chairs, a window, a door and a naked light bulb.

The man standing opposite me is tall, maybe 5 foot 11 inches. He has unnaturally pale skin, as if he hasn't seen the sun in years, and cold, blue eyes. I search them for any kind of warmth, but there is none to be found. He has a mop of unruly, copper hair.

The more I study him the less human he starts to look. On the outside he looks ordinary enough. He is wearing a simple, crisp white shirt and black linen trousers. The only oddity at first glance was the fact he was wearing Converse. It didn't look right, although somehow he pulled it off. He was well built, I mean, I'm a straight guy, but I could admit he was good looking. He had muscly arms, and I could see the definition of his chest through his shirt. He definitely worked out. Yet somehow he looked hollow.

When he started to speak his voice was surprisingly soft.

"What are you waiting for, boy? Turn the tape on."

The boy studied me for a long time. I got the feeling he was looking for something, and not finding it. I waited until I was bored of his appraisal, and then I began to speak.

"What are you waiting for, boy. Turn the tape on".

He looked at me for a second longer, as if he hadn't quite understood, and then he started fumbling around, putting the tape in the recorder.

"Forgive me, but isn't that a rather old piece of technology?" it struck me as odd that he would be using an old fashioned tape cassette recorder instead of a newer technology, especially considering he couldn't have been more than 18 years old.

"Yes, sir, it is, but I've used new recorders, hit the record button, got home and only had about 5 minutes worth of material, because it's just stopped recording. I find this much more reliable. I just need to remember to change the tape."

This still struck me as odd, but I allowed him to carry on, taking a seat across the table from him.

When he was ready he looked at me and gestured for me to begin talking.

"My name is Christian Grey" that seemed like the best place to start, "and this is my story of love, loss and life after death"


	2. Chapter 2

"I was born into a wealthy family. My great grandparents had purchased a large amount of land fairly cheap when they settled in the United States, and by the time I was born my parents had made themselves wealthy by making the land into a Tobacco plantation.

We had a number of slaves, men and women who worked on the plantation for my parents, just as their parents had worked for my grandparents. One of the slaves, a young girl called Daphne, was my Nanny. She looked after me from the minute I was born, ensuring I was fed, clothed, bathed, and clean. She was with child around the time I was born, but she struggled on, dealing with me, until she gave birth to her own baby girl. She was named Bathilda.

I remember growing up and thinking it was such an ugly name for such a beautiful girl.

Bathilda was my first friend. From the time we could both walk and talk we would play together. My mother was very fond of Daphne and so did not object to this, though if she had I probably would have defied her as I got older.

When I started my schooling, the amount of time I spent with Bathilda decreased. This was something I resented my mother for. I could not get my head around why my friend was not allowed to come to school with me. All my mother had to say on the matter was :

"Christian, she is a black girl, black girls do not go to school".

I used to spend the days I wasn't being schooled trying to teach Bathilda. She was a very quick learner. I tried to explain to my mother how clever she was, desperately trying to persuade my mother to allow her to be schooled with me but no matter what I said she wouldn't budge.

"Black girls do not go to school" was the only reply I would get.

Looking back I'm not sure why I was so determined to have Bathilda at school with me. Truth be told I enjoyed teaching her, I enjoyed the feeling of satisfaction that I got when she accomplished something because I'd taught her.

As this years passed I was surprised by the woman Bathilda grew up to be. All of the black women I had encountered in my life had not been attractive, by any stretch. Bathilda was something different entirely. She had an athletic body, her stomach was flat, and she had average sized breasts, but her bum was something else. Big and round, and so, touchable. From the time I was old enough to be aware of her, in a sexual way, I had a desperate desire to grab hold of her backside.

One evening we were sitting in the shade of an old oak tree. We had been discussing some mundane topic that I had no interest in. All I could think about was kissing her luscious, plump lips, and getting my hands on her skin.

She stopped talking suddenly, as if she could sense my mind had wondered elsewhere.

"Christian," she said quietly, "Is everything all right? You are very quiet today."

For a slave she was incredibly well spoken, and I put this down to the fact that I had been her teacher.

"I am sorry Bathilda, I just can not stop thinking about kissing you" I was looking at her lips as I said it, imagining what they would feel like on my lips, on my skin, on my hardening dick.

When she next spoke, her words cut right through me.

"I am sorry Christian, I do not see you like that. You are like a brother to me".

I saw red. I was not going to have this bitch turn me down.

I grabbed her by the hair and pulled her face close to mine.

"You will not say no to me, you filthy little whore"

The terror in her eyes was clear, and this just got me even more aroused.

I yanked her hair again, then dragged her behind the tree, where I was sure we wouldn't be seen.

"You are going to do as I fucking tell you. Is that clear?"

She just looked at me blankly, so I pulled her hair again.

"Is that clear?"

"Yes" she said quietly, and then she spat at me. She actually spat.

Again I saw red, I lashed out, smacking her hard on the cheek.

She yelled out, so I did it again. There was blood pouring from her lips and tears streaming down her face, and this just fed my contempt.

I grabbed her arm and threw her onto her stomach, throwing her skirt up and pulling my trousers down at the same time. I could vaguely hear her whimpering and moaning, so I pushed her face into the ground as I entered her with one quick, sharp thrust.

She was fighting to get away from me, trying to pull her head out of the dirt, but I just laughed at her.

"Shut up you pathetic whore, you are here to serve me" I hissed at her.

The harder she fought against me the harder I pushed her head into the dirt.

Using my free hand, I spanked her, hard. She was making pathetic whimpering sounds, and they were distracting me. I was so close, and her pathetic noise was putting me off. I put as much weight as I could onto the back of her head, pushing her face even further into the dirt. She started to gag, and that started to push me right over the edge.

"Keep gagging, slut. I am going to come inside you. You should be happy about this. You will be filled with me."

As I said the words I came inside her.

She tried to escape me, and in that moment in was the stupidest thing she could have done. I pulled her back towards me by her hair and wrapped my arm around her throat.

"You pathetic little bitch. Are you not grateful to have been fucked by me?"

She spat again. Such a vile creature.

"Why would I be grateful. You are a disgusting man, Christian".

"You stupid cunt" were the last words she heard as I snapped her neck.


	3. Chapter 3

It took them almost two hours to find Bathilda's body. The screams that rang out over the gardens were enough to tell me the girl had been found. I had been wondering around the house aimlessly. This was something I did often, it was very soothing, taking in the history of my family. I was wandering through the banquet hall when one of the slave girls came running in.

"Master Grey, oh, Master Grey, you must come quickly, it's Bathilda. Something terrible has happened!"

I feigned surprised and chased after the girl, who had turned and started to run the other way as soon as her message had been delivered.

When we reached the old oak tree there was a crowd of people standing in a circle. Bathilda's mother was on the floor in the centre of the crowd, cradling Bathilda in her arms, sobbing. Eloise, my father's second wife, was standing next to her, stroking her hair and her shoulders, as if she was trying to sooth a child.

This disgusted me, why was she touching this black woman, in the same way, with the same hands, that she had touched me! I knew I must keep my temper in check, I could not let on to anyone that I was responsible for the death of the young slave girl.

I knelt down next to Bathilda's mother, and started stroking Bathilda's hair. I knew no one expected me to cry, like my father I did not show any emotion, it was just not in my genes.

I stroked Bathilda's hair, looking at her cold, dead face.

I knew from the outside I would look like I was grieving silently for my closest friend, but I was in face remembering what it was like to be inside her, and how powerful I had felt sniping her fragile neck with my bare hands.

I could feel myself growing hard at the thought, and shifted my weight slightly so that my arousal was hidden.

"Oh Christian, who would harm my poor baby?" Bathilda's mother sobbed, looking at me.

I looked away from her, back at Bathilda's face, worried that she would see the disgust I felt at having her use my name.

"I honestly don't know Daphne, she was such a kind soul"

"Come, Christian", Eloise said, curtly, "Let us leave Bathilda's family to their grief".

She held out her arm for me to take as I stood up. I took it, and wrapped it around my own arm as we walked back towards the house.

Once we were out of earshot of the slaves she turned to me.

"Why did you kill that girl, Christian?"

I looked at her in shock, and this time it was real.

"I don't know why you're asking me that"

This was true, why was she asking me? How did she know?

She looked at me for a moment and then sighed.

"You were so fond of her, you didn't have to hurt her like that"

The condescending tone of her voice annoyed me. I was not a child!

For a moment I envisioned killing her where she stood, in the same way I had killed Bathilda.

I brushed the thought away quickly, I could not harm her.

"I swear I did not hurt her, I left her by the tree and she was fine"

She took my arm and started walking again. It was beginning to get dark, and the temperature was dropping. We hurried into the house.

"Christian, I saw what you did to her"

I looked at her closely.

"I watched it all, Christian, you cannot lie to me"

I didn't know what to say to this. If she had seen everything I did, why did she just watch, why didn't she come and stop me?

"Christian, tell me", she said breaking into my thoughts, "why did you kill her?"

I knew there would be no point lying to her. I sighed.

"I told her I wanted her and she turned me down. I snapped, got out of control and took what I wanted. Afterwards, she acted like such a vile little creature I lost my temper and snapped her neck."  
>Eloise was studying me closely, I expected to see anger and disgust in her eyes but instead there was something different, something that I didn't recognise.<p>

She stepped towards me.

"Do you always just take what you want, Christian?"

Her voice was low, husky, and there was something in her voice that I hadn't heard before.

I could feel my body responding to her closeness, and I knew, from the way she was looking at me, that she felt it too.

I took the opportunity to look at her properly. I realised that I had seen her thousands of times in my life, but I had never actually looked at her.

My father had married her when I was still a baby. My mother had died in childbirth, and Eloise had been her best friend. I never discovered if my father had been involved with her before my mother's death, but shortly afterwards they were married. She was certainly old enough to be my mother, turning 36 that autumn, but she looked much younger. She had a very regal beauty, her hair was always piled on her head and she walked with grace. But she was the closest thing to a mother had. There was definitely no way she could be flirting with me.

"Well, Christian?" she prompted, pulling me from my thoughts once again.

She took another step towards me, she was close enough for me to smell the soft soapy scent on her skin.

"Do you always get what you want?"

The look in her eyes snapped my resolve, I used one hand to firmly grip her backside and cupped her chin in the other hand, kissing her hard.

"You tell me" I growled in her ear.


	4. Chapter 4

Her pale skin was smooth and completely unblemished. She had taken her hair out, and it fell in soft brown waves over her shoulders, breasts and down her back. She was tall, and she had an athletic body, muscular legs, a toned, flat stomach and small, pert breasts. I wanted to reach out and grab her, but my wrists were bound the bed posts.

She was standing at the foot of the bed, looking at me. There was a fire in her eyes that was both terrifying and erotic.

She slowly knelt on the bed, and crawled towards me. She stopped and sat between my legs, dragging her nails up the length of my thighs. It was like a cold heat, I could still feel the sting in my legs and she started to position herself over me. The sensation of her nails pulling the skin from my legs sent shockwaves through me, making the hair on my body stand on end.

I really wanted to touch her.

The smile on her face was feral, she looked like a tiger, stalking her prey.

"So Christian, do you always get what you want?"

Her voice was low and husky, it was an incredibly arousing sound.

I couldn't give her an answer, I wanted my hands on her, I wanted to be in her, and right now I wasn't getting that. But here she was, straddling me, completely naked, so surely I must have been getting what I wanted at some point?

She gently lowered herself onto me, taking my full length, slowly, deep inside her. The feeling of being inside her made my breath catch in my throat, and she let out a soft moan.

She began rocking backwards and forwards, whispering my name as she did so.

The urge to grab her and flip her over so she was lying under me was strong, but I couldn't move, and the more I fought against the restraints the tighter they got.

Eloise began to move her hips quicker, and then she began bouncing.

She went from whispering my name to moaning it at the top of her voice. Her back began to arch, and I could feel her muscles starting to tighten around me.

"Oh, Christian, yes, yes"

With a long, drawn out moan, she came.

I could feel the bursting sensation start to grow at the base of my cock, just one more minute, one more minute.

Eloise lifted her weight off me, my eyes were closed as I waited for her to sit back down. As I lay there I felt her weight shift again.

I opened my eyes and lifted my head. She had climbed off the bed and was starting to get dressed!

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" I hissed at her.

She smiled at me sweetly.

"I am showing you, Christian, that you will not always get what you want"

"Why? What do you gain out of this?"

"Control"

She said it so simply that I couldn't believe the thought hadn't occurred to me before.

"Please Eloise, just finish me off" I knew I was begging but she had pushed me so close to the edge I really just couldn't help myself.

She looked at me and laughed, before walking towards to me untie me.

"Oh, sweetie you really don't understand this game at all, do you? I own you"

I just gaped at her, how could she possibly think she actually owned me?

"Don't be so foolish" I told her, "you can't own me. My father wouldn't be happy if he knew about us"

She had clearly heard the threat in my words because in seconds she was sitting on me, pinning me down again.

"Do not try to blackmail me, Christian, even you cannot be that foolish. I watched you rape and kill that slave, and you know if your father found out you would be nothing to him. He would sooner see you dead than admit you were his son if he thought you were capable of doing that to another human being. Do not test me. You are mine, and you will continue to be mine until I say otherwise. When I tell you to you will report to this room, and while you are in here you will do as you are told. Is that clear?"

At that moment I was genuinely scared of her, so I just nodded.

"Good, now get dressed before anyone finds us"


	5. Chapter 5

For a few days everything went back to normal. There was no hint that Eloise had tied me to her bed and dominated me. In fact, there was no hint at that side of her personality. She was mild-mannered and softly spoken. I had a hard time believing she was the same woman who had threatened me and teased me. She seemed so innocent.

When she looked at me, she looked straight through me, and no matter what I tried I could not get her alone. She was studiously avoiding being in any room alone with me. I had no idea what to do.

All I could think about was her. The way she looked with her hair falling over her shoulders, the way her voice became husky when she got aroused, the look in her eyes when she had me completely at her mercy.

When I saw her with my father, smiling and acting normally, it drove me mad with jealousy. Many times I imagined killing my father and taking Eloise for myself.

She was completely under my skin.

This went on for days, then weeks. I tried everything to get her attention.

There was a brothel in town which I started visiting on a nightly basis, desperately trying to get Eloise out of my head. There was an endless stream of women, all willing to be my fantasy, so ready to be dominated by me.

It became routine for me, the enjoyment was gone. I only wanted Eloise, but at the same time I had to rid myself of the thought of her.

Deep down, I knew I had a different hunger that wasn't being satisfied simply by sleeping with whores.

Ever since I had felt Bathilda's fragile neck snap between my hands, I had been having more and more fantasies about killing women. I wanted to own them, body and soul. It wasn't enough for me to dominate their bodies whilst they were alive, I had to be the one to end them.

At first they were simple fantasies, about killing a whore at the point of climax. I had thought of many ways of doing this, asphyxiation, snapping necks, daggers. I had considered a pistol, but knew it would be too loud.

After some time however, these fantasies stopped being mere fantasies.

One night I just snapped.

As soon as I walked into the whorehouse I spotted a young black girl, she had long, athletic legs, and an ample bosom. She reminded me of Bathilda.

As I walked towards her she turned to look at me.

"Well, how can I help you sir?" she smiled coyly. She had a prominent southern drawl, and her smile accentuated her high cheek bones.

Without saying anything I grabbed her and pulled her towards the rickety staircase.

"Well now sir, there's no need to be quite so rough, is there?"

Her accent annoyed me, I threw her into a room at the top of the stairs and kicked the door shut behind me.

"Listen here, whore" I growled at her, "you are not going to say a word, you're going to lie there and take everything I give you"

She didn't move an inch as I moved towards her, imagining the damage I could do to her fragile body.

I put my hand around her throat and pulled her up onto her toes, watching her eyes widen in fear.

"You are merely a replacement for a woman I cannot have"

I threw her backwards, hard, and she landed with a soft thump on the bed.

There was fear in her eyes and that just aroused me more. I rolled her over and pulled up her skirt, exposing her round backside.

I felt a sudden surge of anger towards this woman, anger that I know was really directed at Eloise.

I was thinking about her as I spanked the whore. Thinking about the things I would do to her. She would pay.

I was suddenly no longer infatuated with the woman who had consumed my mind for weeks. I only felt anger, but soon she would know how it felt to be owned by me. I would have her and I would end her.

While i fucked the whore I imagined killing Eloise, I imagined feeling her body going limp in my arms, and watching the light slowly fade from her eyes.

She would be well and truly mine, I would own every last inch of her and she would fucking love it.

The whore was screaming as I fucked her. Ramming myself into her hard and fast. She was irrelevant and her screaming irritated me. I pushed her head down into the mattress.

"Shut the fuck up you stupid whore" I hissed at her, pushing harder on her head, while pushing myself so deep inside her soft, wet pussy that her head was practically between her knees by the time I started to pull out again.

I could feel her body weakening against me, she was suffocating.

She was going to die at my hand while I fucked her.

The thought pushed me close to climax.

I thought of Eloise, I imagined I was buried deep inside Eloise as she took her last breaths, and this pushed me over the edge. As the whore choked out her last breaths I came inside her.

I stood up and dressed myself quickly, then ran a bath and laid the girl in it, face down.

I left the room feeling much better than I did when I walked in. Two of my urges had been satisfied, and now I knew there was only one way to rid myself of the thoughts of Eloise.

She would regret not giving me what I wanted, she would be mine, and it was the last thing she would ever be.


End file.
